Thinking of You
by Alyson Grant
Summary: Jude Harrison. Tommy. Sadie. Kat. Jamie. Her fueding parents. The music industry. An introspective look at how she REALLY feels.
1. Chapter 1

**Thinking of You**

By

**Alyson Grant**

When he drives me home it feels great. It's nearly magical and comforting and exciting all at the same time…

Sometimes it's calm and filled with silence.

A very comfortable and simple silence.

Some people can't handle silence.

They are the type of people who feel the need to fill any pauses with insistent chatter.

They don't trust a silent moment and automatically assume that the stillness is a bad thing, that it's a sign that the conversation isn't going well.

That isn't always the case.

_**Sometimes **_the silence between two people is the indication that things are going exactly right.

Sometimes it's loud as we debate each other.

We spar like two gladiators debating the nuances of our minds.

Neither of us ever finds it easy to back down from our original opinion.

Sometimes it's **funny** and filled with jokes. He tells me humorous anecdotes from his childhood or tales from the touring the world with his group.

Sometimes late at night we resort to knock-knock jokes as if we are both eight years old and in the third grade. Some of the jokes are so bad and so insanely awful that they go around the bend _twice_ and somehow become amusing again.

That is when the late night high of energy overtakes us and we say the **craziest** things.

That also happens when we get so tired that the truths that come out of our mouths are sometimes so startling and surprising with its rawness, the way neither of us ever feel the need to hold back from each other. It's amazing.

But we don't need sleep to nearly overtake us to be honest…


	2. Chapter 2

**Thinking of You**

By

**Alyson Grant**

Sometimes it's filled with **music** like the Clash, Nirvana or the latest top 40 hit that we dissect and take apart mercilessly if it's not up to our musical standards.

Sometimes it's **interrupted** with musical memories that some feel are best forgotten.

(One night we turned to the radio and a Boyz Attack hit from 97' came on.

I laughed aloud when he visibly winced and quickly turned the dial to something else. We ended up 'rocking out' to Andrea Lewis instead on Flow 93.5.)

Sometimes it's filled with **semi new** experiences…

The second time I heard my single on the radio was with him.

It was a Friday afternoon and he'd been driving me home, but when we heard my voice coming through the airwaves he quickly changed direction and drove straight to caffé Piazza Venezia and bought me my very first doppio espresso.

Hmmm…first and last so _far_.

When we walked into the café the barista behind the counter immediately called out a friendly greeting to Tommy. Obviously, he knew him well.

I was going to go for my usual latte at first or maybe a frothy cinnamon mint cappuccino but_ then_ he teased by me saying that I had to live a little and shouldn't always get the same thing.

That the hard form of the double espresso was for the _real_ men with its rich taste and obviously I was _way_ too much of a wuss to handle it.

I laughed and took his dare.

Besides, he was paying for it despite my Dutch offer. Frankly for all he'd been doing for me with the album and just helping me through some rough spots, I'd have been willing to buy him a million espressos and more as gratitude.

All of which couldn't have even come _close_ to expressing how I felt when he took the time to care, console…

Condole.

As we stood in front of the counter watching as two shots of espresso and one shot of hot water was poured into a small white ceramic cup with such expert flourish and dash as if it were a religious experience, I had to laugh a little.

We were all witnesses to a religious experience.

Yeah, that's right. We were_ all_ witnesses to the freakin' Holy Grail.

They both watched as I took that first sip. Not wanting to disappoint them, I told them it was good. I kept the fact that while it was _certainly_ two steps above **okay** it was _way_ too strong for daily intake to myself, but Tommy grinned deviously like he knew what I was thinking, added the blueberry muffin I'd been surreptitiously eying to our order (but felt too polite to comment on), and gently steered me outside into the sunshine.

I felt **ungraceful little butterflies** begin to rise

when he asked

with one arm

strung

**casually **

around my waist

and** lips**

_**dangerously **_

Close.

To.

My.

Ear.

if I knew

that my eyes

were _very_ expressive

and that

I couldn't hide

_anything _

Even.

If.

I.

Tried.

I told him he'd better watch the coffee or he'd spill it.

If my eyes are supposedly so **expressive** what did he see in the next moment when he looked at me?

* * *

**  
Thinking of You**

**AG Author's Note**

Ok, so I had a bit of a poetry format Sonya Sones thing going on towards the end.

This is the original version:

I felt ungraceful little butterflies begin to rise when he asked with one arm strung casually around my waist and lips dangerously close to my ear, if I knew that my eyes were _very_ expressive and that I couldn't hide anything even if I tried.

So which version, in your opinion works better for that chapter and do you like more?

Oh! And just to clarify (if it's necessary) when Jude says/thinks:

'Hmmm…first and last so _far_.'

It's_ not_ some simpering, greedy hint that Tommy should be buying her more drinks.

It just alludes to the fact that she's not so fond of the **double espresso**.


	3. Chapter 3

**Thinking of You**

By

**Alyson Grant**

This was his thing, he explained as he set the two steaming cups of coffee on the table. It was his weekly ritual.

Sometimes more then weekly if necessary.

As I looked at him through the steam and took another cautious sip, he elaborated when he said that this place was his for relaxation. This was one of the places he went whenever he felt stressed or needed to think.

This was where he went for some coffee, some music, and the latest issue of _Billboard_ magazine.

He'd been a regular for years. Even during his boy band days.

That's why the guy behind the counter knew him so well.

They both shared a common love for coffee. And Europe.

(He owned the business and was semi retired and loved to travel. So these days they only saw each other once in a while.)

One of the reasons Tommy liked this place so much was because it reminded him of this one café in Italy that had a similar ambiance.

Both of the café's had rustic decorations, was low key, and could be described as casual yet effortlessly classy.

It just had a sincere vibe that he liked and connected with.

I wisely never asked if he'd ever flipped the pages of _Solid_ during his afternoons spent here. Darius is_ not_ a favorite topic of Tommy's.

That got a whole conversation started on certain places we'd both go to relax.

I told him about this little music store on Dundas that I liked and the way I felt when I was in my parent's country house.

My family used to go there a lot when I was younger but not so much anymore.

I couldn't get there nearly enough since I didn't have my license to go at whim and asking my parents or Jamie to take me there every time I needed to get away just _wasn't_ an option.

He'd just started to ask me _exactly_ what I needed to get away from so often when the food arrived.

For some reason even with him the answer would have been… complicated so I made a big show of digging in and changing the topic.

He probably knew what I was doing even if he didn't fully know whybut let it switch.

We were interrupted twice.

Once when the food we'd ordered arrived and again toward the end by four fans of his. Well, the two girls squealed like _crazy _when he gave them each an autograph but the guys they were with just stood there acting _really_ cool and _very _casual as if they could care less.

And the truth of the matter was that they probably couldn't.

They only smiled halfheartedly in the pictures I took at first with one girl's cell phone and then with more excitement when one was elbowed sharply in the ribs and the thinly veiled threat was made: _Smile like you mean it or else._

Those girls were crazy.

One of the funnier moments was one Tommy didn't even notice because he wasn't facing them.

As they walked away one of the girls turned around and snapped yet another picture on the sly. That was funny to me because they were both so excited about having just met him.

I remember the way her dark curls bounced and glistened in the fading sunlight. And when her green eyes caught my blue I smiled, thinking somewhat bemusedly…

Excitement sure wasn't _my _reaction when I first met him.

When they left he smiled and said that soon this would all be happening to me.


	4. Chapter 4

**Thinking of You **

By

**Alyson Grant**

When I'm with him I feel like I can do anything.

**Be** anyone.

Be a **better version** of myself.

What he sees, I don't see. I can't see.

Not all of it.

But I want to believe that, that person is really me.

When I look at the glossy girl on the cover of _Solid_ Magazine I look at her defiant attitude and her rock star stance and think, 'That's not me.'

That's some tarted up, British Invasion, 'I'm a rock influenced pop star wannabe with the short, short, Catholic schoolgirl skirt.'

Some manufactured idea of rock and someone else's _brilliant_ idea of what I'm supposed to be.

That is _not_ me.

But the words in that article are. Or are they? They seemed to gloss over things.

Make me seem happier then I **really** am. Cooler then I **really** feel.

It's like an **exaggerated** version of who I** truly** am on the best of days.

I look at the girl on the cover and I want to be her. Sometimes I feel like some **lame** version of her and that I'll **never** measure up.

It's late at night when I think I'm in this competition with myself.

**Good Jude** vs. **Bad Jude**.

**Smart Jude** vs. **Stupid Jude**.

Jude Harrison against the world. Against everything. And everyone.

Who am I really?

I wish I knew.

Everyone has these opinions about me. Good. Bad. _Whatever_. It's all there.

My parents, my sister, Tommy, fans, people who _aren't_ so fond of me, the press...

_Even EJ and Georgia._

And it's so hard to take all that into account and be this person…_be_ Jude Harrison.

**_Yes_**, I won a singing contest.

**_Yes_**, I'm semi-famous.

**_Yes_**, I once failed a Math test with six percent.

And **_yes_**, there are more _plenty_ bad grades where that came from.

All of those things are a part of me.

It's hard to see the really good sometimes.

I just can't see what they see.


	5. Chapter 5

**Thinking of You**

By

**Alyson Grant**

I know that the people around me would just think that it's a crush.

And maybe it _is_ that. But some small part of me knows that it's a whole lot more.

And that maybe just maybe…it _isn't_ a one sided attraction.

I see the way he looks at me.

**Intensely**, when we are working on a song.

**Intently**, when I'm telling him my problems.

With those fathomless clear blue eyes…

Cerulean actually. A very light shade of _cerulean_ blue…

Okay I'll stop.

But I bet it's just my imagination working overtime playing tricks and sending signals of what I _want_ to be rather then what really is.

And then I have to wonder. Is he thinking of me as some silly teenage girl who once impulsively kissed him? As the girl who has a tendency to wear her emotions on her sleeve?

Sometimes everything I feel comes a bit too close to the surface.

_Far_ too close for comfort.

I can't hold back and I'm pretty honest and blunt when it comes to certain things.

Or is he thinking of me as…more then a friend and more like a girl? Perhaps more like someone that he would willingly get to know even better and in a _different _way if I wasn't only fifteen?

…

And I get **weak** when he does and wonder if the small smile that begins to play on the very corner of his lips at those times means that he _knows_ it.

I _wonder_ about all of the thoughts that run through his head at moments like those… When he looks at me, when I'm too close to him, when I hug him hello and feel like I could willingly stay in his arms forever but know that I have to let go and get to work or he'd think that I'd turned into some kind of deranged freak overnight, _that _is when I feel so alive, so charged up and nearly **insane** from an overload of pleasant emotions.

I get these ungraceful little butterflies in the pit of my stomach sometimes and it's all I can do to keep on talking, keep on speaking, and keep on having coherent thoughts translated into sentences that can actually be understood once they are out of my mouth.

_We talk about so much. _

I talk about my family.

How my mother is the one who lays down the road called Law and how my sister and I go to my father continually to find the tunnel that goes right though it.

I guess he can be a bit of a pushover. _Sometimes_.

This is a fact Sadie feels no shame in exploiting when she feels it's necessary.

I on the other hand don't have_ nearly_ as much going on behind the scenes so I don't really _have_ a use for all the secrecy and lies. And to be fair neither does she, nine times out of ten. My parents trust her. Ha! If only they knew!

I didn't even realize how I really felt about my sister aside from the obvious 'She does so much. I do so little. How can I compete?' kind thing that I had going on.

Still might have going on. I guess. I'm not sure. I'm working on it.

**Was I competing? **

'If I am', I said bitterly one night, 'I'm losing'.

That came out before I could think about it.

It came out before I could censor myself.

We talked about that.

Why would I have to censor myself anyway? Or feel the need to? This was _Tommy_.

I looked at him that night and tried to listen. I really_ tried_ to get that it wasn't about competing. I _tried_ to get that this wasn't a win or lose situation.

I tried to understand that no one was better.

But that seemed preposterous.

Look at the facts.

**Sadie. **

She's done volleyball, basketball, dressage, debating, karate, cheerleading and more.  
Everything she's _ever_ done she's always done well.  
Great grades…_everything_.

And then there's me.

I play guitar.

All my grades _aren't_ that great.

Not in math.

And lately not in Science.

Wow.

Yeah.

_No one_ in this scenario is better right?

**Right. **

Everyone loves her because she seems so perfect and can be nice when she wants to be. That's why she always has a trail of girls and guys who wish they could be more then just friends following her around like little lapdogs as if she were Queen Sadie instead of just the girl who blatantly let the guy I obviously had a crush on aware of just how stupid I can be when it comes to math.

'What kind of moron gets six percent in math? _As a final grade? _'

**Thank. **

You.

Sexy.

Sadie.

I finally looked away and contemplated the way the stars twinkled outside yet another café window. I looked at the way the Sky Dome jutted out into the dark night's sky as I slowly sipped my coffee. Closing my eyes to the instantaneous rush of caffeine I got another kind entirely as I listened to the passionate sound of Tommy's voice.

When it was quiet I opened them.

And exhaled.

When I said he couldn't _possibly_ get it because he _wasn't_ Sadie's sister he didn't get angry or even the slightest bit upset at the sudden edge in my tone.

At least not visibly and I know Tommy at least when it comes to me. If it's not on his face, it's not there at all. No pretending. No lies. Just truth.

At the time I hadn't even been fully aware was there…

It just happened.

It just was.

He just listened.

And tried to help.

He tried to help me with a problem I didn't even realize seriously needed fixing...

**AG Author's Note**-

**Re**views not views are what makes me feel like updating.


	6. Chapter 6

**Thinking of You  
**  
By

**Alyson Grant**

I told him about my parent's arguments and how they made me feel.

I told him about all the times when I was younger and my dad used to put on the record player and then _I'm Happy Just To Dance With You_, _I'm A Loser_, or _When I'm Sixty-Four_, would come wafting throughout the house.

He'd hold out one contrite hand to my mother at times, even add a little gallant bow to try to make her laugh at others and would always, always put on his best 'I'm sorry' expression that I'd like to believe wasn't purely fabricated.

And they'd dance.

They'd listen to the lyrics and to the melody and try to find comfort in each others arms.

They'd let the music do the talking since their own words and what they usually had to say to each other in those first few moments came out wrong and harsh and as sharp as a knifes steel edge.

They'd sway in each others arms and they would try, yes they would _try_, not to go to bed angry.

Now that seems incredibly **innocent**.

Now even the _Beatles_ couldn't stop my mom from snapping out something harsh and my normally gentle father from reciprocating equally in turn.

Then they'd seem to remember that Sadie and I were home.

They would intentionally lower their voices as if the anger vibrating through the walls **would have less of an effect if we couldn't hear the words clearly**.

My mom would start banging pots around in the kitchen and they'd start talking in these high pitched fake cheery voices.

But it was too thin a veil over an **obvious** situation.

They weren't good pretenders.

They are _not_ good pretenders.

**  
Everything between them seems so screwed up. **

One night after recording a song I confided that one of my worst fears was that they'd divorce.

How **messed** up would that be?

Who would I **live** with?

Who would get **custody**?

But they have therapy **(not that it seems to be working)** so maybe…_maybe_ it won't come to that.

I hope.

**AG Author's Note-**

**Duddley111**,** pixiestix16**, **GiliwasCool **and** mZtOmMyQ5319 **

Thanks for reviewing chapter five!


	7. Chapter 7

**Thinking of You **

By

**Alyson Grant**

He tells me about tour experiences and his family.

And what he thought fame would be like, what it actually was, _is_ and… **could be**.

We talk about his solo album and how he thought he had what it took but after Darius took his tracks and locked them away he kind of lost his passion and started thinking, "Why the hell am I doing this?" and took a break.

A break that has stretched into years.

It was supposed to **clear** his mind and help **search** his soul.

He was trying to get his head **straight**.

He was trying to figure out what he was going to do after Boyz Attack.

He was trying to figure out who he _really_ was away from Bruno, J.P, and Chaz.

He once told me that even though he'd _hated_ being in the group toward the **end**, it really was like a family in the **beginning** and that it was tough breaking out of that family setting even though he did have a good reason.

Actually, he had a**_ few_** good reasons.

Even though leaving the group was good for him he said that sometimes in the days and month directly after he'd regretted it.

But then he'd quickly snap back to reality and remember how it _really_ was.

He'd remember all the control issues and the arguments.

(Do arguments always have to break _everyone_ apart?)

He'd remember the late night yelling sessions, the **bold** accusations and the lyrics and the pop melodies combined with synchronized dance steps that didn't seem to fit who he felt he was becoming.

He then remembered the **inky disgruntled black** and didn't focus solely on the **glossy promo white**.

And then he moved forward.

Because that was the only _real_ path he honestly felt he could go.

**The only path he was going to take if he was going to stay sane.**

He'd laughed a little when he said that and leaned back in his seat.

The sound had a bitter tinged edge.

I was sitting beside him fingering the levers of the turned off soundboard. As we sat in the control room with a long contemplative silence stretched out between us, I looked through the sheet of glass to where I'd recorded that afternoon.

If I hadn't already known, I would have known something was really wrong or just **distracting** him because he didn't even try to stop me as I slid the levers up and down.

**Up. **

And.

Down.

I looked into that recording booth and knew that Tommy had been in studios just like it. Bigger, smaller, more lavish or sparse…he'd been there.

He'd been there and back.

And I felt a little sorry for him in that moment even though I knew he didn't really need it and wouldn't _ever_ want it.

I felt sad that his career hadn't turned out the way he'd expected it to even though _he_ never seemed to mind.

The summer he laid down all those tracks he'd felt so alive. I knew **exactly** how he'd felt.  
Or thought I did anyway…

I understood how it felt to get so inspired by all the stuff going on in your life or the daily bits of drama that you see on a regular basis simply because you're a human being living on a fucked up planet that has far too much of it.

The lyrics and sound just pour out and you're getting every emotion out in this **brand new way**.

Sometimes you feel you have to or you'll just go **crazy** keeping every single emotion that you feel locked up and bottled deep inside.

You can't be **nice**. You can't be **gentle**. You can't **pretend** that things are **okay**.

You can't keep on **living** a **lie**.

Each song is **special**.

Each song _isn't_ the **same**.

Were they really as rough as Darius claimed?

Or were they simply an extension to Tommy's soul that Darius couldn't _possibly_ understand?

* * *

**  
AG Author's Note:**

I have a real problem with updating stories that a lot of people read but don't review so if you have opinion feel free to share it.


	8. Chapter 8

**Thinking of You  
**  
By

**Alyson Grant**

It's weird how events both big and small have the ability to change a person, completely change the course of who they are and what they'll do…how they'll **react**, and how in the span of a few short months you can go from being one thing to being something else entirely.

I should know.

During the summer of 2001 Tommy was working on a record that hasn't seen the light of day since Darius locked it away. Things with the band weren't going too well and they only seemed to be getting worse.

By February of the following year he was _out_.

Little **Tommy Q _who_? **

He was an excellent producer but he'd started out as a singer.

Did he have any regrets?

Did he ever feel like a **failure**?

I wanted everything for him. I wanted _anything_.

What was it like for him to work in music studios nearly every day and not be a singer?

To be behind the scenes and not **be** the scene, or part of the scene?

Part of the main action?

The integral **sing your heart out** just because you **_can_** part of the action?

I don't know how I'd feel.

I don't even know if I could _handle_ it.

How did it feel to be on the wrong side of the glass? Could it even be called that?

Maybe not.

For him.

And if he felt that he truly was on the right side of it…well, how did he _get_ there?

I wanted to ask.

I _wanted_ to ask him this but in the moment couldn't figure out a delicate way to phrase it.

One wrong word or seemingly judging infliction of tone and wouldn't he get offended?

I think _I_ would have been if the situation had been flipped, switched, and reversed and it was Tommy asking _me_.

Wouldn't I sound **accusatory**?

Or **worse** like an inquisitive reporter who was trying to get information that didn't even concern them?

It might just come off sounding a bit like:

Hey **loser**. You **screwed up**. **LOSER.**

You **are** a **screw up**. **LOSER.**

How do you get by everyday when you're **reminded** of your **_fail_ure**? **LOSER.**

Or maybe that's just me.

Sensitive.

Feelings easily bruised.

Over…

**_Analyzer._**

**Oh what harm can an inquisitive mind do? **

That is a question for the ages.

I guess I just can't imagine something happening to me that would change me so much that I'd be _so_ different because I love my studio time and the whole recording process.

It's all so new to me, perhaps that's a **huge** part of it and maybe sooner or later the novelty will wear off but for now, I've won Instant Star and I have this whole opportunity as a recording artist and I just can't imagine my life without it.

Or some of the people I've met since my journey began.

I wouldn't even want to try.

I guess I won't really understand until I've been through a similar situation myself but from Tommy's stories I _really_ don't want to.

I haven't had the chance to become jaded on this industry yet.

I don't _want_ to become jaded, wary or cynical, always looking over my shoulder…**searching** for the hidden catch.

I want to be smart but I don't want to be so **overzealous** that the fun is sucked right out of it.

I guess I'm sort of innocent that way.

I want. **I want.** I want.

Everyone **wants** something, but do they always **get** it?

Even some **warped** and **distorted** version of it?

No.

Not always.

Maybe I'm not so **naive** after all…


	9. Chapter 9

**Thinking of You **

By

**Alyson Grant**

I know the horror stories.

I've read the books.

I've seen my fair share of _Behind the Music's_.

I know _all_ about the artists who've been **ripped off,**

**denied creative freedom,**

were **signed** to **unscrupulous labels **

or had **equally** unscrupulous **managers **

(sometimes both,)

**the whole nine yard**.

I know a **bit** about the things that can happen if you aren't careful or aren't surrounded by people who actually have your** best interests** at heart.

I just lack** firsthand experience**.

**Thankfully,** so far…

Will I be lucky enough to **control** my streak?

Will I be able to **keep** it?

I **wonder**.

Luckily I've got **Georgia** who cares; I can tell.

She believed in me when others were doubtful and continues to support both me and my career.

She isn't trying to change my sound or create a new image of who she **thinks** I should be. She's perfectly content with _me_.

She likes me the way I am and all she wants is a hit and my happiness (though not necessarily in that direct order I'm sure.)

I've even got _E.J_.

She speaks her mind and she says harsh things.

She tells the truth as she sees it but she isn't _evil_.

She doesn't hate me or want to see my career falter. She's **E.J**.

That one word could cover everything.

And there's **Tommy**. In his case one word really _does_ cover everything.

When it comes to supportive people who aren't music related, I do have a small number in my life that counts.

I've got Kat, Jamie and my family which does include Sadie in her own warped and twisted way.

I even have all my aunts, uncles, and extended family who called in and voted for me and sent cards and congratulations once I won.

Perhaps it's not such a **small** number after all…

And last but certainly not least I've got fans.

Fans.

**_Me_**.

_I've_ got fans.

Sometimes, I feel like that's _such_ a mistake.

**Sometimes**, I feel like yelling, 'Hey don't you know who I **_am_**?

I'm the most **neurotic**, screwed up, overemotional person there is!

So you do _not_ want to admire me, be me, **Blank** me anything!

**Mi_stake_!'**

That's **_so_** weird.


	10. Chapter 10

**Thinking of You **

By

**Alyson Grant**

**'Canada called and the voice was Jude's.'**

That was a headline from the _Toronto Star_ the morning after I won Instant Star.

The bold print stared up at me from our front doorstep along with my beaming nearly face splitting smile, visibly shocked face (You can tell by the eyes if you look really, really closely otherwise I know I just look _crazy_-happy.) that was nearly obscured by tons of colorful confetti and the sharp edge of the oversized meant-for-television brand spankin' new G Major Records recording contract.

A recording contract that was mine, **all mine**.

Sorry Eden.

**_Not._**

But that's the **evil** side talking.

I guess the whole experience with Boyz Attack and Darius and Tommy's own issues really tainted the whole experience.

**The experience.**

It's **weird** how easily my life has changed from school, friends, anger, angst, singing, music and writing to school, friends, anger, angst, singing, music, studio time, rehearsals, interviews, and writing.

And how easily I was able to accept and adapt to most of it.

It wasn't _that_ weird.

**Some** parts of it…

Because let's face it, having Little Tommy Q walk into my school and watching all the girls freak out was just surreal.

And Jude-A-Pa-Loo-Za?

While flattering and kind of cool, it was equally creepy if you really think about it.

Come _on_ now.

**Changes.**

Now the writing is usually with Tommy _not_ Jamie who in the past could always be counted on to help me rework choruses, add a few words here and there, and basically cheer me on as we munched on popcorn and the occasional Laffy Taffy.

Now the singing is in a snazzy studio. _Not_ my bathroom or bedroom.

And as for the interviews?

Well, let's just say that the **only** person who _ever_ cared so much about what was going through my head was last year when I dyed my hair to it's current shade of red and wore all black with no variation for two straight weeks and my mother honestly thought I was on drugs.

I'm _not_ kidding.

I _wish_ I was.

**Not that Sadie was any help. **

_As if she ever is..._

She just raised her perfect eyebrows at the dinner table, food still in the slender silver tines of her fork, that was held by a _fresh_ French manicured hand and said airily in a bored tone, 'Oh yeah Mom.**_ Duh. _**That's what her people _do_.'

And then she just smirked at me when I looked at her with my mouth agape as if to ask 'Just how crazy are _you_?'

**Nice** right?

Lovely.

**I know. **

We can't possibly come from the same gene pool.

I mean our parents must be lying to _one_ of us.

Dad _tried_ to tell me she was only joking.

As if _that_ would have stopped me from reaching over and trying to throttle the very last living breath out of her glossy Passionate Peach! mouth.

I know someone who would understand the **emotion**.

If I could go back in time and tell Chaz to stop being such an egotistical jerk I would. I'd tell him 'Stop being **jealous**. It's not Tommy's fault that he's a better singer and cuter then you are. It's not his **fault** that you thought you were supposed to be the one that everyone loved the best but most of the girls who slipped past security wanted to see Tommy and not you.'

**It wasn't his fault. **

(I'd also tell J.P to stop sleeping with the eager groupies because _that's_ how he got the children he has to care for. _Men_. But that's something else entirely.)

If he hadn't left, he would have eventually hated himself and hated his friends and hated the person that he was letting himself become.

He'd already been starting to.

He said that suddenly, in a low quiet tone that both broke the silence and seemed to come out of nowhere.

**It was just that sudden. **

Those words were filled with such dangerous emotions, shaded with dark undertones and were encapsulated with heady memories that I couldn't even _begin_ to touch.

The shivers that went down my spine that night weren't from a G Major heating problem. They were from the obvious intensity of all the emotions that the guy I was sitting next to was feeling.

He'd helped me through so much without even trying by listening so I took his lead.

**And listened.**

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**AG Author's Note-**

**Finally, Escape **and** One Cut** are also up.

**Please Read and Review!**


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